


Deckhand Hook in the Unclaimed City

by TheMilahsKillyBear



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-28 20:19:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13911426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMilahsKillyBear/pseuds/TheMilahsKillyBear
Summary: Deckhand Hook lives in the Unclaimed City, abused and alone, after being kicked off the ship by Blackbeard. He knows he’s submissive, but he’s never had a Dominant. The Dominant in charge of the city who was meant to be caring for the submissives abuses his power, and does as she pleases without a thought for their limits or wellbeing. TRIGGER WARNINGS: NSFW content, BDSM-based culture, abuse, non-con, whump, angst, hurt/comfort, self-harm, and ultimate happy ending.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> DeckHand Hook lives in the Unclaimed City, abused and alone, after being kicked off the ship by Blackbeard. He knows he’s submissive, but he’s never had a Dominant. The Dominant in charge of the city who was meant to be caring for the submissives abuses his power, and does as she pleases without a thought for their limits or wellbeing. TRIGGER WARNINGS: NSFW content, BDSM-based culture, abuse, non-con, whump, angst, hurt/comfort, self-harm, and ultimate happy ending. 
> 
> THIS FIC IS NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART

After his latest beating for failing to keep the ship clean, Blackbeard dragged the deckhand ashore by the hair and dropped him on the docks. He dropped the bag of the deckhand’s things, having found nothing valuable or useful among them, then turned and went back ashore. Hook took his bag and stared at the ship, then began walking. He had heard of the Unclaimed City, the supposed sanctuary for submissives, and knew that was where he had to go. But he needed to buy a horse first, so the journey wouldn’t weaken him even more, and he needed medicines too. He had some skill at mapmaking, and at carving, too, and hoped that would be enough for him to make a small living. His shirt was in tatters, since it hadn’t been removed before he was whipped, and a cane had been used on his feet. Every step was agonizing, and he knew he was still bleeding. Despite knowing he had to reach the small village, he was broken. Shattered, really. He had lost not only his home, but he had no one who cared, no one to look after him. That cut him to the quick, and the resulting ache hurt more than any physical wound, which was saying a lot.

Once he reached the small fishing village, he was able to barter for a loaf of bread and some meat, eating the small meal quickly and then making his way into the forest, sinking down into a small cave near a little stream. Hook curled up, building a fire to stay warm and keep the animals away, then fell asleep.

Within a few weeks, his injuries were mostly healed, and he’d saved enough to buy himself new clothes, a horse, and food for his journey. He packed his few belongings, and then made his way to the Unclaimed City. Hook hadn’t known what to expect, but what he saw made him shiver and nearly leave once he laid eyes on the city. It was a terrible place, the buildings falling apart, with many submissives looking terribly mistreated. He hesitated, uncertain, then saw a dominant holding a whip. Hook swallowed hard, then turned his horse and urged the animal into a run. The whip cracked, and then the horse stumbled before it fell, sending Killian into a pile of rotting garbage. The horse screamed, then he heard the sound of a sword followed by silence.

“Now that you’re here, slave, I can’t have you leaving.” The man said, coiling his whip and then hanging it from his belt. “But your horse will feed a lot of people.” Killian forced himself not to look at the beautiful horse he had grown fond of, knowing what he would see.  The man snapped his fingers, and a group of other people came up, carrying things they would need, and dragged the carcass away. The dominant leaned down and grabbed Killian by his neck, lifting him off his feet. “Welcome to the Unclaimed City. You’re mine now. No one else wants you, and no one else will ever claim you. I get to do what I want with you, and you’ll enjoy it… Or not.” With that, the man carried Killian to an empty house and threw him into it, laughing as Killian winced.

“My things…” He said.

“Belong to me now. You have no property. You are property. The sooner you learn that, the better it will be.” The man left, and Killian curled up, shivering. He’d traded one prison for another, and now he was a slave again, useless and unwanted.   
  
The next day, early enough that Killian was still half-asleep, the dominant reappeared in the house. He shook Killian awake roughly, cracking his whip in the air, and Killian jumped, moving away instantly.

“You will call me Master James. You will not speak unless I order you to, and you will take whatever punishments I give you, and if I chose to take my pleasure from you, you will accept me, regardless of your own desires. You have no need of a safeword, because you have no limits. You exist only for my pleasure. Nod if you understand me. Shake your head, and I will beat you until you cannot protest anymore.”

Killian took a deep breath, then shook his head. Before he could realize what was going on, he was being dragged out to the main square, his clothes torn off and tossed aside.   
  
Master James fastened a thick, ugly, heavy iron collar around his neck, locked it, then uncoiled his whip. Killian took a deep breath, closing his eyes and bracing himself. James grinned, then began, the whip cracking through the air followed by fire on his back as his skin was cut open, blood streaming down his back. But still James continued, merciless, and when Killian began to cry out, he grinned sadistically. The whip continued to crack through the air, and by the time James was done, Killian was barely alive, and, as James had threatened, unable to protest.   
  
He was carried back to his house and dropped on the pile of blankets that served as his bed. James followed behind him, and the other subs scattered as soon as he entered the building. They all knew what was coming, and having lived through it, had no desire to watch.

James pressed Killian into the rags, then slammed himself into Killian’s arse to the hilt, not paying any attention to the scream that escaped Killian’s throat. The sounds Killian made only served to arouse him more, and before he realized it, he had tipped over the edge. He pressed his hands down on Killian’s back, delighting in the agonized cries from Killian’s throat, then pulled out and wiped his hands off on the remnants of Killian’s shirt.

Killian curled up as much as he could, shivering in the cold, completely naked, tears shining on his face, and blood covering his back, arse, and legs. The pain tore through him, and he knew he was in shock from the blood loss, the pain from James’ brutal assault, and the pain from the whipping he’d received. He took the cleanest of the old blankets and wrapped it around himself, wincing at even that small movement.

For the next few days, he was left on his own, and worked hard to keep his wounds from festering. But they began to fester, and when the fever took him, he gave in to it completely. Because of the fever-dreams, when he saw the golden angel with emerald eyes, he thought her nothing more than a hallucination. When he didn’t see her again, he dismissed her from his mind.   
  
He recovered slowly, the fever fading, and the infection leaving his body, and before long, he was able to get up and move around. James came back often, and each time, Killian made a small cut in his forearm, a way to get rid of the pain he felt at being used in such a way.

But one day, Killian realized that he hadn’t been visited by Master James for some time, and crept out of his house, the thick collar around his neck heavy enough to bruise him. He’d lost weight since he arrived in the city, and was now little more than skin and bone and scar tissue.

Still nude, because no clothes were provided for him, he reached down in an attempt to cover himself from sight, and then he saw armed guards moving through the city streets. All the subs were being rounded up, forcefully, and Killian fled, terrified. One of the guards saw him, and threw his spear. The spear caught Killian near his ribs, and he fell, crying out sharply, curling up and gasping as he pulled the spear out. He coughed, wiping the blood from his lips, then laid his head down and closed his eyes, letting the welcoming blackness take him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DeckHand Hook lives in the Unclaimed City, abused and alone, after being kicked off the ship by Blackbeard. He knows he’s submissive, but he’s never had a Dominant. The Dominant in charge of the city who was meant to be caring for the submissives abused his power, and did as he pleased without a thought for their limits or wellbeing. Princess Emma discovered that, and took the submissives into the palace, where she found Deckhand Hook. TRIGGER WARNINGS: NSFW content, BDSM-based culture, abuse, non-con, whump, angst, hurt/comfort, self-harm, and ultimate happy ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains non-con, heavy whump, BDSM, violence, and many more triggers. Read at your own risk.

When he opened his eyes, he was laying in a bed, the collar around his neck gone, and his wounds healed as though with magic. Despite that, he was still thin, almost sickly thin, and when he sat up, the room spun around him. He leaned over and grabbed the privy, emptying the contents of his stomach into it uncontrollably. The door opened, and he was vaguely aware of someone walking in. At the feel of the hand on his shoulder, Killian jumped, setting the privy down and curling up, shaking like a leaf.

 

“Shh…” The woman soothed, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair. “You’re safe now, it’s alright.” Killian swallowed hard, fighting to keep still and not pull away.

 

“What’s your name?” She asked him, reaching down to take his chin and lift his head gently, her other hand moving to his back. She could feel his tension, his pain, and wanted to ease it.

 

“I… Um… Killian.” He stammered, swallowing hard once more, expecting to be struck at any moment.   
  
“Well, Killian, my name is Emma. Do you have any family? Is anyone looking for you?”  
  
“N-no… I was a deckhand on a pirate ship, but my captain sent me away and then I ended up in the Unclaimed City…”   
  
“That place doesn’t exist anymore. And the man who was supposed to take care of all of you has been exiled.”

 

“Exiled?”

 

“Yes. You’re safe now, Killian. Just lie back, rest, and relax. We’re going to find you the right dominant.” Emma reassured him, rubbing gentle circles into his back. A part of him wanted to relax, but the rest of him was convinced that she was just trying to get him to lower his guard before she hurt him the way Master James had.   
  
Despite his best efforts, before long, Emma had lulled him into sleep. He slept for hours, barely stirring, until the light of dawn woke him slowly. Killian grumbled softly, but got up, then saw someone in the corner and froze. It was James.  
  
“Did you really think I was going to leave that easily, little toy? Oh no. No, I’ve grown quite fond of you, and you’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever had. No one is going to keep us apart. Now, be a good boy, strip, and then don’t make a sound. If you do, I’ll kill anyone that comes to help you, and then kill you last.”   
  
With shaking hands, Killian obeyed, and James moved closer, removing his own clothes before he knelt on the bed, shoving Killian down into the mattress. He took out a knife, a long hunting knife, and proceeded to leave several long, deep slashes on Killian’s back, then added a few more on his chest.   
  
The blood stained Killian’s skin and the bed beneath him, and only then did James grin and force his way into Killian’s arse. Killian bit his own tongue to remain silent, tears streaming down his cheeks from the pain, and still it continued.   
  
James reached down and swiped his fingers through Killian’s blood, then painted his name on Killian’s arse. “This belongs to me. You belong to me. And I’m going to come back and steal you away, take you somewhere no one can find you.” He whispered before he bit down on Killian’s neck hard, hard enough to draw yet more blood.   
  
Killian whimpered softly, and James laughed under his breath before he dug his fingers into one of the slashes on Killian’s back.  
  
Killian blacked out, the pain too much for him, and when he came to, he was alone, James was gone, but his body was on fire, and he couldn’t move. It hadn’t been long since James had left, he knew that much, because his wounds were still bleeding. Bleeding badly enough to make him feel weak and dizzy. The room was spinning once again, and he was so frightened that he could hardly even consider calling out to anyone.   
  
He closed his eyes, laying his head down, and got as comfortable as he could, given the blood-soaked sheets and the pain coursing through his entire body. Killian fell asleep again, but this time, he was woken by a scream that made him jump and try to hide.   
  
His legs gave way beneath him, his body too weak to support his weight. That and the blood loss, the extreme blood loss, turned him deathly pale, and the maid who had come in turned and fled the room, screaming about ghosts and dead men.

 

Killian tried to get up, but failed, and then gave up, curling into a ball on the floor, shivering lightly, feeling as though he were frozen.

 

When Emma walked into the room, her face paled at the sight of all the blood. She quickly removed the sheets from the bed, dropping them in the hallway, then looked around for Killian.   
  
Seeing him on the floor, Emma knelt down beside him, reaching out slowly, hesitantly, unsure where to touch him. Killian flinched back, whimpering softly, and Emma stopped moving.  
  
“It’s okay, Killian. It’s alright. Give me your hand, now, we’re going to take you to another room. Come on, just give me your hand…” Emma soothed, holding her hand out in front of him.   


Killian eyed her through the fog in his head, unable to see straight, then held his hand out slowly. Emma took his hand, then pulled him to his feet, and Killian once more passed out, unable to stand any of it.   
  
Emma poofed them back to her room, where she bandaged his wounds and then laid him down on the cot beside her bed. He woke when he felt the pillow beneath his cheek, and Emma was sitting in the chair next to him.  
  
“James came back.” She said. It wasn’t a question, but Killian nodded, wincing. Everything hurt him, and he was sure that when James had taken him by force, something had torn inside him.

 

“You’re in my chambers now, Killian, and I’m not going to let him hurt you again.”

 

Killian shivered, closing his eyes. “You said that before…”

 

“I know, and I’m sorry. The guards I posted were easily bribed. Lie still for me, I’m just going to touch you. It’s not going to hurt. It’s going to take all of the hurt away. And from now on, you’re going to sleep in here, in my room. It’s the best guarded room in the palace.” Emma murmured, resting her hand on his shoulder.

 

The magic that spread through him felt warm, comforting, and healed his wounds. He still felt weak, but at least he wasn’t losing any more blood.   
  
“Lie back, drink this. It’ll help your body restore what you’ve lost.” Emma instructed, kneeling on the bed behind him and resting his head in her lap as she held a flask of juice to his lips.   
  
Killian drank slowly, then laid his head down tiredly, closing his eyes. Emma set the flask aside, singing softly under her breath as she stroked his hair, running her fingers through the dark locks slowly. His beaten, battered body relaxed slightly, and Emma smiled softly at him before she leaned down to kiss his forehead.   
  
“You’re safe now, Killian.” Emma whispered in his ear. “It’s alright, go ahead and sleep now. I’m here. I’m here.” She soothed, wrapping a thick fur blanket around him and watching as he slipped off into sleep, his face smoothing out into a peaceful expression.


End file.
